Flaw Less Page 4

  “Where’s the bacon?” asked ten-year-old Morgan, digging through the noodles. “Mommy always put bacon in it.”

  “I used sausage instead,” said an exasperated Angel.

  “I don’t like sausage,” griped Miley.

  “You ate three sausage patties this morning,” Angel reminded her.

  The five-year-old sulked. “I don’t like this kind. I like the patties.”

  “Well, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, but I’m not cooking anything else,” threatened Angel.

  Miley poked out her mouth in silent protest. Then her hunger got the best of her, and she began taking small bites out of her plate of spaghetti.

  “What time is Daddy getting home?” asked Morgan.

  Angel poured glasses of juice for them. “He has to work late tonight. He won’t be home ’til around ten.”

  “Can we stay up and wait for him?” asked Miley.

  “She’s gonna say no,” muttered Morgan. “She always does.”

  “Morgan, that’s not true. But you have school tomorrow. If I let you stay up that late, you won’t want to get up in the morning, then we’ll be late. Remember what happened when I let you stay up waiting for him last week?”

  Rather than admit defeat, Morgan found a new way to rile Angel. “Can we go see Mommy this weekend? I want to put some flowers on her grave.”

  Angel bit her lip. She knew that the girls needed closure and still needed to feel close to their mother, but the weekly cemetery visits were starting to wear on her. “Wouldn’t you rather do something fun, like go to the park or go skating?”

  Morgan looked down at her plate. “I knew you were going to say no.”

  “I didn’t say no, I just . . .” Angel gave up and gave in. “If you want to put flowers on your mother’s grave, that’s what we’ll do. I know you miss her.”

  “I miss her all the time, like every day,” admitted Morgan.

  “Me too,” replied her sister in a low voice.

  Angel softened toward them. “I understand. She was my friend, and I miss her too. But she wouldn’t want us to be sad all the time. She’d want us to be happy.”

  Morgan pouted while Miley jabbed at her food with the fork as they ate in silence. All three were relieved when they looked up and saw Duke’s smiling face. The girls sprang from the table and rushed into their father’s arms.

  “Daddy!” squealed Miley.

  “Yea, Daddy’s home!” sang Morgan.

  Duke kissed them on their cheeks and tousled the afro-puffs sprouting out of the tops of their heads. “Yes, Daddy’s home. How are my two favorite girls?”

  “Good now,” squealed Miley. Angel wondered what they were before Duke got home.

  Duke released his daughters and then bent down to kiss Angel on the top of her head. “And how’s my other favorite girl?”

  “Tired and exhausted but good now,” she replied with a simper, echoing Miley. “I thought you were working late tonight.”

  “I was supposed to, but I decided that spending time with you guys was more important than making another dollar.” Duke grabbed a plate and sat down across Angel. “This looks good, babe,” he commented, reaching for the pasta.

  “She didn’t put any bacon in it like Mama,” grumbled Morgan.

  Duke chuckled. “That’s okay. There are a thousand different ways to make spaghetti, baby.”

  “But Mama’s way was the best way!” argued Miley.

  Duke noticed how uncomfortable Angel looked and reached out to give her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Well, let’s just see now . . .” He swallowed a forkful. “Honestly, girls, I can’t tell whose is better. They’re both delicious.”

  Angel smiled a little. “Thank you.”

  Morgan shrugged. “I guess it’s okay,” she conceded, now that her father was on board.

  Duke dug in for a second helping. “Um, babe, I noticed that the little end table in the foyer is missing. What happened to it? Did it break or something?”

  “It’s in the attic,” replied Angel. “I got tired of bumping into it when I come in with all my stuff after work. Having it gone makes it more convenient for me. Taking it out opens up the space more, don’t you think?”

  Duke shifted uneasily in his seat. “It’s just that Reese loved that little table. It belonged to her grandmother. She called it her ‘what-not’ table.” He stopped himself from elaborating. “You know what? This is your home too now, and if you think it shouldn’t be there . . .”

  Angel held up her hand. “No, it’s okay. I’ll put it back. I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

  He seemed relieved. “Thank you, sweetheart. Maybe we can just move it to the other side so it’ll be out of your way.”

  Angel couldn’t help feeling a little slighted that Duke had sided with his dead wife yet again. First, there was her picture that he insisted on keeping in their bedroom. Then there was his wedding ring that only came off when Angel threatened to break off their engagement a few weeks earlier. She also had to constantly fight the urge to slap Duke every time he slipped up and called her “Reese.” Now, she’d have to add Grandma’s table to Theresa’s growing list of posthumous victories.

  “Daddy, can we go upstairs and watch TV?” asked Miley after nearly cleaning her plate.

  Duke smiled at his daughters. “Of course, you can.”

  “After they put their dishes away,” stipulated Angel. Seeing as how their favorite television show was about to start, Angel’s request was met with downtrodden looks but immediate compliance.

  Duke grinned watching them scramble up the staircase after clearing the table. “That Miley looks more and more like her mother every day, doesn’t she?”

  Angel cleared her throat and steered the conversation in a new direction. “You know we’re having that clothes drive at my church next week. Have you thought any more about my suggestion?”

  Duke wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You mean donating Reese’s clothes?”

  Angel nodded. “Yeah, they’re just in the closet taking up space. Theresa was such a giving person. I’m sure she’d want her clothes to go to someone who needs them.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want them?” offered Duke.

  The thought of wearing Theresa’s clothes was more disturbing than Duke siding with Theresa about the table. “Theresa and I aren’t really the same size,” she answered, not sure exactly how to respond. “Theresa was so tall and lean, and I’m pretty average in size and height. I don’t think her clothes would fit me.”

  “I’m sure there must be one or two pieces that would fit you. I think you wearing her clothes would be a great way to honor Reese’s memory.”

  Angel sighed. “Baby, I just don’t know how comfortable I’d be wearing your dead wife’s clothes. It would be a little creepy, for lack of a better word.”

  Duke nodded. “I understand, and I’m sorry. It was stupid for me to even suggest that.”

  “It wasn’t stupid,” she assured him. “Just because I can’t wear them doesn’t mean someone else couldn’t get good use out of them. If you want, we can set a few things aside for the girls to grow into.” Duke didn’t look convinced yet. “Just think about it, okay?”

  “I will. Give me a couple of days to think it over.”

  “Okay, but keep in mind that we’re trying to move forward, not stay in the past. Sometimes doing that requires us to make painful choices.”

  Duke was quiet for a few seconds. He loved his Theresa, but he also adored the woman seated across from him. “You’re right, baby. I love you. Reese is gone, and you’re the woman in my life now. If you want to donate the clothes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Angel beamed. The living—one point; the deceased—3, 492.

  Duke returned her smile, reminding Angel of one of the many things she loved about him. “So how are we coming with the wedding plans? Have you found a dress yet?”

  Angel shook her head. “I haven’t really started looki
ng.”

  “What’s stopping you?” he asked, surprised.

  Her body tensed. “Are you sure this marriage is still what you want?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” Duke held up Angel’s left hand. Her exquisite white-gold, 1.5-karat diamond engagement ring sparkled under the light. “This is a symbol of my commitment to you, our marriage, and this family. You never have to question whether this marriage is going to happen or my love for you.”

  “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m going to lose you. I don’t think I could survive that again.”

  “You won’t lose me,” he promised her, inviting Angel into his arms. “And I can’t lose you again either. You know, baby, God allows strange things to happen. Obviously, I don’t think my being unfaithful to you when we were married was a part of God’s will, but I can’t help but think that having Morgan and Miley was. While I regret hurting you, I don’t regret having them. I don’t think Reese having cancer was God’s divine plan either, but I believe you coming here and being a part of our lives was. Reese’s illness was the catalyst for us all overcoming years of hurt and unanswered questions. It’s also what eventually brought us back together. Now, we have the family we always wanted. I know my girls can’t replace the child that the two of us lost, but this seems like the life we were always meant to have.”

  She nestled in Duke’s arms. “I know, but a part of me wonders if you’ll ever love me as much as you loved her.”

  “Yes, I loved my wife,” Duke admitted. “But there’s only room in my life for one Mrs. King.”

  That much, she believed. However, the question remained whether he meant his last wife or his future one.

  As Angel finished clearing the table, she watched Duke, who sat on the sofa deep in thought. She knew without his having to say so that he was thinking of Reese again. She knew that being threatened by a dead woman was foolish, at best, and borderline psychotic, at worst. Nevertheless, Angel couldn’t help but feel like she was still competing with Theresa for Duke’s heart. After all, Theresa had come between them before. Who was to say she couldn’t do it again?

  Chapter 6

  “I’m going to come back home and show you why you’re so lucky to have me!”

  —Lawson Kerry Banks

  Lawson’s husband, Garrett, crept up behind his diminutive bride and snaked his arms around her waist. “Do you know what you were doing six months ago today, li’l mama?”

  “Hmm, let me see . . .” teased Lawson. She dropped a few dishes in the kitchen sink. “Was it the laundry?”

  He smirked. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

  “Wait a minute.” She pulled Garrett into an embrace. “I think I vaguely remember saying ‘I do’ to the sexiest, sweetest, kindest, most romantic man on the planet. Does that sound about right?”

  He leaned down to kiss her. “So how do you like being Mrs. Garrett Banks so far?”

  “It’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  “Yeah, well, you made me work hard enough for it, that’s for sure!”

  “I had to make sure you were worthy, honey,” she replied, playfully taunting him. “You know not just anybody can get this.”

  “Is that right?” Garrett’s mood morphed from frisky to amorous. “What you know about me gettin’ some of that right now?” he kissed her again.

  She giggled. “I may know a little something about that. . . .”

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “What do you know about going into our bedroom to re-create our wedding night?” Before she could answer, the phone rang. “Don’t answer it. If it’s important, they’ll call back.”

  Lawson glanced down at her cell phone on the counter. “Baby, it’s Mark. I have to answer it.” She pulled away from her husband and picked up the phone. “Hi, Mark, what’s up?”

  Mark’s husky voice came piercing through the phone. “Don’t panic but—”

  Lawson gasped and held her chest. “Oh my God, what happened to Namon?”

  “I just told you not to panic,” Mark reiterated.

  “Mark, what happened to my son?” broke in Lawson. Garrett edged closer, seeing her concern.

  “Calm down, he’s fine, Lawson,” Mark assured her. “Namon had sort of a little accident on my motorcycle.”

  “Motorcycle? Mark, are you crazy? I told you I didn’t want him anywhere near that thing! He’s a child!”

  “Namon is fifteen. He’s not a child anymore, he’s a young man.”

  “Ugh!” roared Lawson. “I can’t believe that you could be so irresponsible with him. Just tell me what happened.”

  “All he did was mount the bike. It was a little heavier than he anticipated, and the bike fell over on him. He skinned up his leg pretty bad.”

  Lawson sighed. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “For what? I just told you he’s okay.”

  “I want to see it for myself.”

  “How about I put him on the phone?” proposed Mark.

  “How about I just come over there and bring my son home where he’s safe?” she shot back.

  “Namon is perfectly safe here with me, and he doesn’t want to leave. He didn’t even want me to tell you about it because he knew you’d react this way.”

  “So the two of you have been conspiring against me, is that it?” questioned Lawson, becoming more irate by the second. “I’m coming over, Mark, and you can’t stop me.”

  Mark was firm with her. “He’s not leaving with you, Lawson. It’s my weekend with Namon.”

  “Whatever! I’ll be there in five minutes.” Lawson hung up the phone and began searching for her car keys.

  “What’s going on?” asked Garrett, alarmed.

  “Mark let Namon play around with that darn motorcycle of his, and now Namon’s hurt. I’m going over there to check on him.”

  “How bad is it?”

  Lawson reached for her purse hanging on the back of one of the high-bar chairs. “Mark says that he only scraped his leg, but I want to see for myself.”

  “Baby, if Mark says Namon is okay, I believe him. There’s no need for you go charging over there, especially not on our anniversary.”

  Lawson was irked. “Namon is my son, Garrett. If he’s hurt, I’m going to be there for him.”

  Garrett pulled his wife closer to him. “He’s not in grave danger. He’s a boy, and boys fall down and get hurt. He doesn’t need his mother running over there and making a big fuss over him. Let him be a man.”

  “Is that how we’re defining manhood now?” she snapped.

  “I’m just saying there’s no need for you to go over there making a big deal out of it.”

  “Garrett, you already know that I’m still not all that comfortable with the idea of Namon spending so much time over there, especially when it’s obvious that Mark is letting him run amok and do whatever he wants to.”

  “Baby, it’s supposed to be our night,” Garrett reminded her. “Let Mark handle Namon, and let me handle you.”

  Lawson shook her head. “Do you honestly think I’m going to be able to focus on anything if I’m worried about my child? I’ll be back before you know it. I just want to see how serious it is and if Namon needs to be taken to the hospital.”

  Garrett groaned. “All right, Mrs. Banks, we’ll go. Just let me grab my jacket.”

  “No, you stay here,” advised Lawson. “And I want you waiting for me in bed when I get back, preferably with some soft music and a bowl of whipped cream,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Baby, Namon is my son too. Plus I don’t like you driving alone at night, even less so when you’re this upset.”

  Lawson slung her purse over her shoulder. “Mark only lives a few miles from here. I’ll be fine, and I promise to call you as soon as I assess the situation with Namon. I’m praying that we won’t end up having to spend the night in ER.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along?” Garrett offered again.

  “Yeah, I think if we both sh
ow up, guns blazing, Mark will be on the defensive and think we’re ganging up on him again. Things have been peaceful between us lately, and I don’t want to rock the boat unless I have to.”

  Garrett yielded to his wife. “Okay, just don’t keep me waiting or make me start without you.”

  Lawson laughed and perched herself up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m just going to run over there for a minute to check on Namon, then I’m going to come back home and show you why you’re so lucky to have me!”

  Garrett watched his wife duck out of the house. He knew Lawson’s primary concern was seeing about her son, but it still irked him that she was also leaving him to see her ex-lover Mark. At that moment, he wondered just how lucky he really was.

  Chapter 7

  “Ray, my voice is the last thing on his mind, and you know it!”

  —Reginell Kerry

  Reginell lingered in the bathtub for over an hour. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could still feel hands all over her. She wasn’t one to be prudish when it came to sex, but sleeping with a man she’d just met in exchange for a favor was a new low even for her. She didn’t bother praying, fearing that she had gone beyond the perimeters of God’s mercy and grace.

  Reginell splashed water on her face to wash away the tears and drew her knees up to her body. Dinner with her family had given her a temporary reprieve from the ordeal she’d experienced at the strip club where she worked, but now that everyone had gone home, the images came flooding back.

  Lawson’s favorite scripture to hammer her with was, “Don’t give to dogs what is sacred. Don’t throw your pearls to pigs.” If by pigs, Lawson meant the patrons at the club, Reginell had neither pearls nor anything else sacred left to throw—not after what she’d done.

  The twenty-four hours prior initially held such excitement and promise. Reginell’s manager and club owner, Ray Stokes, had scored her a singing audition with the up-and-coming R&B group, Intermission, who had performed in Savannah earlier that night and were coming through Paramours to unwind. Ray had promised Reginell that this was the big break she’d been waiting for; the years she’d spent hoping to get “discovered” had finally paid off. By the end of the night, Lawson, Sullivan, and everyone who’d doubted her would have to eat their words once she stepped out with a record deal and a shot at the kind of future she’d only imagined.